


Something to Help you Sleep

by ceria



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Thumb-sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4736993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's watched Clint sleep many times, but didn't know about <em>that</em>.<br/>(A thumb-sucking prompt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to Help you Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting old fic still, this is all PWP. Not AoS or AoU compliant.

They've both just returned from separate missions tonight. Phil is wired and edgy and unable to sleep; therefore he's processing his AAR in order to pass the time and relax post-mission. Clint was with Jasper so it's not like something went terribly wrong that Phil feels the need to watch him tonight. It's just easier to stay here and make sure. 

Okay, he's waiting to see Clint with his own eyes. It's silly, but he likes to make sure all is well. He doesn't want to watch Clint sleep on his sofa and imagine that it's really his bed; that he could just climb in next to Clint and press his body against him, wrap his arms around him (or both of them roll over and Clint wrap around him) all night.

So he processes the little bit of paperwork that he can– until the door opens and Clint slips inside. He grins at Phil and motions him to stand up. Phil obliges. Clint has his own rituals that need satisfied. Phil slips his suit jacket off, holds out his arms and spins around.

"No broken bones?"

"Didn't even draw my gun," Phil admits and Clint laughs.

"Did you just stare them into submission?"

"Everything went well," Phil says and motions for Clint to complete his part. He pulls off his shirt – Phil has no idea why Clint added that to their custom but he's not going to complain – and stops the pirouette when he gets to the bandage on his side, bottom of the ribcage.

"What happened?" Phil crosses the room and rests one hand over the bandage, Clint shifts backward and Phil isn't sure why. 

Clint shrugs which means nothing serious and Phil decides to confront Jasper tomorrow about it. "Have you slept?"

"No," Clint whispers and Phil backs away from him, fingers slowly leaving Clint's skin. It's not what he'd rather do but if Clint is admitting he's tired, then he's probably exhausted. 

"I've got a little more work to do if you want to rest."

"You'll watch my back?" Clint asks and Phil nods in agreement. 

Usually when Clint sleeps in his office, he's got his back to the room, head shoved beneath a pillow. Phil's only ever admitted to himself how much he loves this. Right before falling asleep, Clint rubs his feet together. The swooshing noise of socks slowly stopping until Clint is snuffling and softly snoring.

It's precious, for lack of a better word, and Phil treasures the fact that one of their scariest assassins feels safe enough to sleep in his presence. 

For once, Clint doesn't turn around to let Phil watch his backside. Instead, he shoves his head mostly under the pillow and pulls the afghan off the back of the sofa. (A gift from Aunt Edna last year, done in shades of purple. It was the first color he thought of when she asked what would match his office.) He's mostly buried except for one eye, his nose and mouth. 

Phil glances up and smiles when he catches Clint watching him. It's not abnormal after separate missions so he doesn't think anything of it. He goes back to work, listening for the swoosh of feet beneath the blanket and doesn't look up until it stops and Clint is softly snoring.

"Oh," Phil says. He's never seen this before. One of Clint's hands has strayed up to his face. His fingers are tucked beneath his cheek but his thumb… Clint is slowly sucking it in and out of his mouth. Lips puckered over the joint, sliding back and forth. 

"Jesus," Phil says and leans over his desk. It's fascinating in a way. And sexy as hell. He can see Clint's jaw moving, opening and closing as the thumb sinks deeper inside. His cheeks are blowing in and out as he sucks. Phil wants to get closer. Would he be able to tell if Clint's tongue is playing with it? Wrapping around the end of the finger? Maybe like the head of a cock? He has to see. It's ridiculous to creep up on Clint Barton and it's going to get Phil caught. But Christ, he's right there, sucking on his thumb like it's no big deal and Phil needs to know. 

He wants to replace it with his own thumb, or even his dick. It's not like Clint doesn't feature in enough of Phil's wanking as it is. Getting a close-up view is only going to make his fantasies worse but Phil doesn't care. He's around his desk, hand pressed against his cock to keep it under control (as if). He sits on the floor in front of Clint. 

Phil watches as Clint's lips part. He can see the tip of pink tongue massaging the thumb in his mouth, slipping back and forth. Phil is so intent on it, he doesn't notice Clint open his eyes until all motion stops. Clint pulls his wet thumb out of his mouth and gives Phil a crooked smile.

Phil starts, leaning back suddenly. When had he leaned in that close? He was practically breathing on Clint. "Sorry," Clint mumbles and Phil shakes his head. "Why are you staring at me?" Then he grimaces and glances at his thumb. "Oh. Shit. I forgot to roll over, didn't I?" He moves as if to stand up. Maybe to run away. 

"No," Phil says and he sounds… strangled. Clint stops moving and really looks. Phil knows what Clint must see, he's on the floor cross legged, obviously aroused, his cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes are probably dilated he's so turned on from watching Clint.

If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be Phil. Clint doesn't trust many people and for Phil to objectify him this way… "I’m sorry," Phil starts but Clint shakes his head no.

"You like that," he says, surprised. Then he sits down, legs spread, and leans forward, elbows on his knees. They're only inches apart from each other. "Give me your thumb," Clint demands and Phil whimpers at the thought. He shouldn't – he knows it. He shakes his head but Clint just scoffs. "Now, Phil."

Arm trembling – he can hold a gun steady for an hour before his arm shakes and _this_ makes him nervous? Clint unbuttons his dress shirt and carefully rolls the sleeve up twice. "What are you doing?" Phil asks but Clint doesn't answer. He runs his fingers across the back of Phil's hand, curving around the outside of it and draws it close. 

Clint nuzzles Phil's thumb for a moment before pushing it out of the way with his nose and kisses Phil's palm.

Phil isn't sure he's still breathing right now. Clint's tongue runs across the soft skin and Phil whimpers - again. Then bites his lower lip to remain quiet. Clint's eyes are alight with glee. He puckers up and lets his lips rub against Phil's hand, sliding up from the base of his thumb slowly until the tip of Phil's thumb is pressed against those lips. He parts them, dragging his teeth over the dry skin of Phil's thumb.

"Clint," he whispers.

"You want me," Clint says without a doubt. "Don't you?" His breath is warm against Phil's skin.

Phil swallows, throat dry, and nods once.

"You want to know what it's like to fuck Hawkeye, to ride him for a night? Or maybe for me to spread you open and wear you out? Is that it?" His expression is cynical and Phil hates it.

"No," he admits and Clint raises one eyebrow at him. "Not just one night."

"So what, I'm worth two nights?"

"As many as you want," Phil says because he doesn't like lying to Clint. He's seen the way people size him up, flirt with him, take him out, and then stop talking to him. 

Clint looks shocked for a second, then parts his lips again and suck Phil's thumb into his mouth. 

"Oh god," Phil whines and Clint draws his thumb in deeper, cheeks hollowing, the friction fast and hard and Phil can barely sit still. The moist heat, Clint's tongue, all of it is killing him until Clint lets him go.

"Stand up," Clint says and leans back, legs still spread. He's hard in his jeans. But Phil is just as hard. He stands, his dick pressing against his underwear, trousers tenting out awkwardly. "Hands behind your back," Clint says and Phil does it without thought.

Warm hands on his hips as Clint touches him, bringing him closer, "You going to behave?" Clint asks and Phil just nods. He didn't expect this… this dominate side of Clint but it's beautiful. If that makes Clint comfortable, then Phil doesn't care. They can talk about it later.

Clint presses his hand against Phil's dick, holding it still as he lowers Phil's zipper. He reaches inside, gently dragging it out and breathes against it. He glances up, watching Phil watch him. "This okay?" he asks and Phil nods. Yeah, it really is.

"Sometimes I dream that my thumb is your cock," Clint says and Phil's knees almost buckle. Clint grins at him then and sucks him inside his mouth. 

Phil hasn't had a blowjob in years. Maybe that's why Clint feels so amazing but maybe not. It's the soft brush of teeth over sensitive skin, the saliva quickly cooling as Clint pulls almost all the way off, and his tongue pressing against the slit on the end.

He moans but doesn't move per Clint's request. His hands are gripped tight behind him as he watches. Clint's eyes flutter shut as he sinks again. His head tilts to the side to change the angle, his cheeks hollow for more friction. He's sucking hard and tight and it doesn't take long for tremors to run through Phil, making him unsteady on his feet. 

Clint pulls all the way off, licking the end of Phil's dick. "You want to come in my mouth?" he asks and Phil can't help but nod. Clint reaches up, the same thumb he was sucking on in his sleep finds its way into Phil's mouth. Phil sucks it in deep, running his tongue against dry, broken skin and ragged nail. The feel of it grounding him and Clint sucks him back into his mouth, head bobbing faster and faster. Clint's other hand presses against Phil's balls and kneads him through underwear and trousers. 

There's nothing he can do to prolong this, Phil moans around Clint's thumb as he comes, shooting in Clint's mouth. Then Clint backs off, hand giving enough pressure to let Phil know to slide down, to get closer. He's on his knees when Clint kisses him, some of his come still on Clint's mouth. He pushes it inside Phil, lets him taste himself as they kiss. Clint brings his hand up to Phil's face as they part, both breathing heavy. Phil turns his head and sucks Clint's thumb back into his mouth. He rests one hand on Clint's knee, slowing sliding it up, watching to make sure Clint doesn't mind.

Clint's nuzzling the side of his face, lips almost to Phil's ear. "Can I come in your mouth?" he asks and Phil nods. Clint leans back, and Phil, very uncoordinated, reaches for the zipper of his jeans. Clint lets him gently pull him free. 

"You don't have to do anything," Clint says. "Just let the tip of it in."

Phil doesn't suck on Clint's dick, just opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the head. He glances up and Clint is staring at him. Phil grips Clint's thighs and doesn't move as Clint wraps one hand around himself and pumps up and down, hard and fast. His fingers bump against Phil's mouth but Phil remains still, lips tight, eyes watching Clint. He has a slight warning as Clint's thighs bunch up then his mouth is being flooded with semen.

Only after Clint closes his eyes does Phil back away. "Come here," Clint says and they reach for each other, Clint's arms settling around Phil as they kiss again. Clint deepens the kiss, he must be able to taste himself. 

"Want to sleep?" he asks and Phil nods. Clint pulls him onto the sofa, the two of them settling beneath the afghan together, bodies twisted all around each other until they find a comfortable position. Phil closes his eyes and feels the press of skin against his mouth. He spreads his lips and sucks Clint's thumb inside. It's the last thing he thinks of that night.


End file.
